4:00am- My father is driving me to the train station. He speaks softly, giving me advice as we travel down the empty highway. “Make
sure you give us your address when you get there, and watch your back” he says,
not taking his eyes off the road. I nod
dutifully, and tell him that I will. His
lectures have become part of a ritual we go through every time I leave
home. As always, I listen closely because I know they come from a place of love. Eventually, he shifts gears and we talk about
sports, but the conversation becomes forced as we get closer to the station. Eventually it stops completely, and the car
is filled with a heavy silence. This is also part of the ritual. “Don’t be afraid to come home,” he says. His voice catches slightly as he talks, and an
arrow pierces my heart. He wants me to stay home, get a corporate job, and leave the road behind. But I can’t.
We only
get eighty
years on this planet, and I don’t want to spend them doing the same
thing as everyone else. Besides, countless people have conquered corporate
America. I want to conquer myself, and I need the road to do that. I try to tell him this, but the words get caught in my throat. So I just nod, and say, “I won’t”. He pulls the car into the Amtrak parking lot, and we both get out of
the car. He hugs me without making eye contact and whispers, “I hope you find what
you’re looking for”. I smile sadly and reply, “I will". Quickly, I turn and walk towards the train station. I feel guiltier with every step I take. The ritual is complete
5:00am- The station is eerily quiet. There are lots of people here, but they
hardly move and rarely speak. It feels
like someone pressed “pause” on a DVD player, and now the whole world is standing
still. I’m trapped between the home that
I’ve left behind, and the new beginning that lies at the end of the tracks. Is this what purgatory feels like? Undoubtedly, there is something sacred about the “in-between” times of life. Whether it's a bride walking down the aisle, or an astronaut flying into space, people treasure life more
once they've let go of the places they've been, and they’re moving towards some place new.
Maybe that’s why I'd rather sit in a train station than a town house, or why I’m most at ease when I’m one of several anonymous passengers traveling to parts unknown. I wonder if the people around me feel the
way. Are they excited about what’s waiting
for them at the end of their journey, or are they scared? I guess it doesn’t matter. The train is going to come regardless. With this in mind, I sit patiently, and
wonder if the train out of purgatory will take me to heaven... or to hell.
9:00am- I wake from a dreamless sleep as the passenger car jolts, and my head slams into the window next to me. We are heading east, chasing the sun as it rises higher in a cloudless sky. It would be exhilarating if the sun wasn’t shining directly in my eyes. But it is, and the curtain on the window is torn, so I can’t block it out. “Samsara is full of suffering,” I remind myself. As my annoyance grows I look at the thin Hispanic man sitting beside me. He's sleeping soundly, perfectly at peace.
9:00am- I wake from a dreamless sleep as the passenger car jolts, and my head slams into the window next to me. We are heading east, chasing the sun as it rises higher in a cloudless sky. It would be exhilarating if the sun wasn’t shining directly in my eyes. But it is, and the curtain on the window is torn, so I can’t block it out. “Samsara is full of suffering,” I remind myself. As my annoyance grows I look at the thin Hispanic man sitting beside me. He's sleeping soundly, perfectly at peace.
10:30am- A trip to the dining car has netted me a bagel, some hot tea, and a
yogurt. I wonder what the monastics of
Buddha’s order would think if they could see me now. They had to make do with whatever was put in
their bowls… I get to order off a menu.
I feel spoiled, and grateful that I was born in the 20th
century.
11:14am-
The young man that was sitting next to me gets off the train is
replaced by a woman with short, blonde hair who looks to be in her
mid-fifties. We make small talk as the train slowly leaves the station,
and I find out that she's on her way to visit her son. In the span of
45 minutes she offers me a bottled water, candy, and half of her
roast-beef sandwich one by one. I accept the first but politely refuse
the other two offers. She's being so generous... to a complete
stranger. I smile slightly as a warm, fuzzy feeling grows in my
chest. The world is a beautiful place!
3:00pm-
My train pulls up to the station, and I walk inside. The farm owner
that I'll be working with is standing near the entrance, smiling from
ear to ear. We shake hands, and then words start spilling from her
mouth in a volcanic eruption of sound. She waves her hands excitedly as
she speaks, telling me how glad she is that I'm here; and how much work
there is to do on the farm. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and pretty
soon my smile matches hers. Confidently, I pick up my luggage from
baggage claim, and walk into the unknown.
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